It took everything, absolutely everything, inside not to open for him and suck his finger.
“You’re still fighting, little Weaver. I suggest you give in.”
Never!
I moaned as he kissed me, encouraging me to just let go. Cut no longer played by whatever ancient rules that’d bound him. He played a different game. He seemed younger, softer...and the occasional similarity between him and his eldest son shot confusion into my brain like the worst vertigo attack.
He’s not Jethro.
He’s not!
I might’ve given in to the music and danced. I might’ve become one of the clan as I cavorted around the burning blaze. But now I would control myself, even if it meant shackling everything my body wanted and ensuring I was taken against my will.
Rape would destroy me.
But willingly participating...I would rather die a thousand times on the threatened guillotine.
“Do you need me to go into details, Nila?” Cut ran his nose along my jaw. “You know what happened to our ancestor. He was buggered from one a.m. to one p.m. He was shared. There were no rules on what could be done to his body. He was given as a debt.”
I swallowed hard.
The terrible tragedy of what’d befallen his relative helped fortify my resolve.
I leaned away from his touch. “No, you don’t have to. I remember.”
Jethro...
God, I wished he was here.
Kestrel...
He’d saved me last time. He’d remained true and honest and so damn selfless—I’d wanted him in that moment.
I wanted him now.
The drugs made me want anyone as long as I earned pleasure and an end to the incessant drive for a release.
I balled my hands. “Whatever you gave me—I won’t give in to it.”
My eyes glazed as Cut grabbed his cock. “You sure about that?”
Animalistic primal urges overrode my humanity. I was sick. Sick, sick,sickto want this murderer. The man who’d slaughtered my mother. The man who killed my lover and his brother—his very sons.
No!
A wash of clarity helped me stand firm. “Get out! Getout. I won’t enjoy this. I won’t. No matter what you do, I won’t welcome this. You want me to give myself willingly? You want me to love you like I love your son? But I won’t. I never will. You’re a twisted bastard who deserves nothing more than death!”
Silence smothered us as my outburst hung loudly in the tent.
Daniel ran his hand over his face, chuckling. “Oh, fuck, Weaver. Now, you’ve done it.”
Cut didn’t say a word, but the loose enjoyment on his face tightened with rage. Lashing out, he grabbed my hair, jerking my head back. “Love my son? I think you meant to sayloved, my dear. He’s dead.”
Shit!
I forced desolation into my gaze, burying the truth deep inside.
Cut’s gaze probed mine, searching for my lies. “You’re strong, I’ll give you that. Stronger than your mother. Do you want to know how she begged me to fuck her? Want to know how wild she was? How she confessed she loved me and would die happily after the night we had together?”
